Learning to Swim
by EmeraldFreckles
Summary: One-Shot, DracoGinny. Rating not for sexual content but for dark thoughts. Ginny is hooked on the voiced in a corridor because they make her forget her own. She starts to drown in a sea of memories of someone else,will someone throw her a life jacket? Or


Disclaimer-I own nothing that you recognize

Learning to Swim

I have walked this hallway many times, once in the morning, once at night, with the many times in between. I do not like this hallway, it radiates sadness. I dislike the portraits in this hallway, their eyes linger too long on me and their memories seem to invade my head as I try and deal with my own. I dislike the invasion of my head. They bug me, these portraits; it seems as if they are not just paint and a simple spell but lost souls that prey on the happiness that lingers from the students who pass them, greedy for any chance of light that they may ever see. They never wander from portrait to portrait like the others in the school; they seem to be too greedy to leave, just preying on those who cannot avoid the hallway that everyone despises. But I feel drawn to it. I feel as if the pain in the hallway, the penetration of other's memories in the corridor helps me forget my own. I am allowed to float adrift in a sea of someone else's memories instead of the mind numbing of my own. I will sink into an alcove that I know of, knowing that all eyes of the forever imprinted will be on me, feeding me their thoughts, feeding my addiction.

I see a boy in this hallway, almost as much as I know that I travel the corridor that haunts others. I know that it does not have the same effect on him that it does on me, or else there would not be so many cuts on his arms as he walks with his sleeves rolled up. I see them. He lets the arms up a little too high sometimes and I watch. I watch the scars glint in sunlight while he scowls at his homework; I sometimes see their glare from the candles as he walks by my alcove. He is sometimes smirking or sometimes he is grabbing his left arm in pain. The trio thinks that he has a dark mark when he grimaces and clutches his forearm; I know this is not true. But, would they understand the addiction of the pain of mortal or of others? Would they know anything outside their own? I sincerely doubt it.

I often sit alone at breakfast, not alone to the naked eye, but take a closer look and you see my eyes. My eyes are downcast as others are lifted and in essence I am alone. In my own little world. But it's alright, they know me here. They embrace me with open arms and take me into their consideration when they make decisions. They would never plan a dangerous mission without me there. They listen to my troubles before they go shooting off to a sure death. The littlest things mean the most to some people. I guess that I'm one of those people. I am walking into the hallway as I think about this, I must stop these dreadful thoughts, they always bring me here. I am swimming but I can't seem to stay afloat.

My alcove does not seem to help me much these days. Percy is still ignoring mum and Bill is back to Egypt. Ron is planning his death with Harry and Hermione, something that they always seem to leave me out of. But now that I know all of the problems of the real world and of the canvas, this does not seem to serve a purpose. Today the sketched are bored and I must deal with their silence. I dislike the silence. Couldn't somebody at least scream? I am, only no one can hear my screams from the innards, just as no once seems to notice me going under. Nobody wants to throw me a lifejacket.

My hair is wet and my face is red. It's always like that after I take a shower. I'm in my dorm room, not satisfied from the corridor. Nothing was the product of the day today. I have achieved nothing, my day was a waste, that E in Transfiguration seems for nothing and I think of why I even woke up this morning. Oh yes, the thought of a new day, a new beginning, promising myself that I would not go near the corridor. That was a thought made in vain. Obviously I just needed a reason to rise from a stupor. I see a glint from the dresser in which I have placed my wand, the owl is here with my razor replacements. Thank Merlin, I thought that I was going to turn into a Niffler. But then I think about Malfoy's arms and a thought comes to mind. He keeps walking through the corridor and it does nothing to him, could it be the scars on him? Could they take away that pain and that reliance? I have to rely on portraits to be in the right mood, but he, he only has to make sure that there is something sharp enough around. I decided to go ahead with the idea. I took the replacements. I rolled up my sleeves.

It was pure euphoria. The pain invaded my mind and it took all the thought clear away. I was busy, pinching the opening. Running my finger over the slice. Admiring the hurt that it caused. I spent the next moments cleaning up the staining, although the house elves should think nothing of the stains on the bed linen. We are young ladies after all. Blood is just one of the many things that we are used to. But, I was confounded as to why I hadn't experienced this type of feeling at seeing it before. I was starting to bob at the surface again, the air felt bittersweet.

I woke up the next morning to a stinging on my arm. It reminded me of the night before and it made me want to start the day, a fresh day. My life anew, without the dreadful corridor, without my alcove, how I shall miss it. I hold my arm all the way down to breakfast, squeezing it when thoughts bubble too close to the surface. I don't think anyone has noticed the change in me, not that they noticed how I was at first. The boy with the grey eyes has noticed though. His eyes seem to penetrate me and expose me to the entire school. I think that I do not want that to happen, rub my arm vigorously and drift off in the pain, not to think about the eyes again. Only when I look up do I see that he has finally looked away. He is squeezing his arm tightly. I wonder if anyone has tried to throw him a lifejacket. He seems to be skimming the surface. Barely.

I decide to test it out after dinner, when I have discovered the corridor to be most empty. Except for him. He walks all the time. Maybe he likes the noise of the brushed on people. Their stares and their everlasting hunger. I sit in my alcove and hear him pass, I do not look up at him I am too busy staring in wonder at this slice in my flesh, thinking of when I can do it next because the voices are seeming just a bit fainter in my head. He has paused. I quickly roll down my sleeves but I am too late. He has seen it. I am ashamed, although I cannot think why. It hurts much worse and the voices are becoming stronger, but right now I need to be in the present.

"Weasley," He says to me, oh my, this cannot be any good. He starts to squat down next to be and I back into a corner, he follows. "Do you even know what you're doing to yourself?"

I do not answer him, I stare at a wall in front of me and pretend, I am here alone. All alone in my alcove. My thoughts only to keep me company, like always, like it forever will be.

"I don't think you know what this does to a person Weasley. I know what you are doing; do you think this alcove hasn't been used before? I know you sit here, I know about the pleasure of the penetration of other's hurt, how it seems to keep you going so much as to keep you away from your own problems. I know about the reliance of it. But you see Weasley, with voices there are no scars. Nothing to be ashamed to show the world. There is nothing to explain. I have these cuts on my arm, I tell people that I happen to have a grumpy cat at home who I pick up much too often. But I know the truth and I am ashamed of the truth. It won't work forever." He starts to rise to go away.

"I want the scars." I tell him softly, half hoping that he might not hear.

He whispers in confusion. "Why would you want scars of your pain?"

I can feel the water welling up in my eyes, I knew that these would come; they have been pushed back for much too long. I just hoped that it would not be him, but alas, here we are.

"I need them." I whisper. Softly. "I want everyone to notice that I have pain"

"You don't think they notice that you hurt?" He take my chin and looks into my eyes. "I see them notice you. I notice you too." He abruptly dropped my chin when my downcast eyes searched to meet his.

"I think that they are much too preoccupied with their own messes to deal with mine." I turn my head and close my eyes, waiting for him to confirm the truth so that I can go back to the single slice on my arm. "Maybe if they happen to catch a glimpse they'll see what they cannot hear me say."

"It's because you speak much too softly my dear Weasley." He sat next to me staring at the side of my face, his legs splayed out in front of him. I think that now with this bond we can float together, but somehow I know that not much will change.

It's been a few days since my little interval with Draco, as I have come to know him. I don't feel better but I feel as if I am weaning off the corridor little by little. Concentrating on how to right my problems so that I don't have to swim away from them. I have decided to work on one particular problem this morning, the trio, still planning a dangerous mission that is sure to lead to their death.

"Ronald," I start to speak, they look at me in amazement, as if they thought I was some sort of mute. "I don't think that plan is a good idea."

"And how would you think that Ginny, you don't even know what we're talking about."

"If you don't think so, maybe you should talk a bit quieter next time you plan your death."

"I'm not planning a death Gin, go away."

He seemed like he didn't even care that I had an opinion. I needed a knife. I slipped one from my napkin into the folds of my robe. But then I turned to him.

"You think I don't know what you're doing." My voice started to rise. "You think that I don't know that you are planning something dangerous, almost surely to lead to your death? Well, I do know Ronald. I know that what you are doing is wrong. How can you be that selfish? You have a family that's fragile right now and frankly, I can't even think about what we would do if you were to…something horrible were to happen to you!"

Ron's face had gotten beet red by now and he was as angry as I was.

"Well, Ginny, it seems that you have a couple of opinions that you would like to share, that you have shared. Now, I'd appreciate it if you would just BUGGER OFF!"

He screamed in my face. He actually screamed in my face. I grabbed the knife in the folds of my robe and I headed out the door.

The tears were streaming down my face by the time I got to the alcove. I was rolling my sleeve up as I was tackled to the ground by someone. I started to fight them with all the anger I had pent up to let bleed out. Kicking and scratching. It was Draco. I buried my head in his shoulder and wept as he rocked me back and forth. I started to mumble to him.

"I need the scars. I need a scar. I need to show them what they do to me. Give me it. Give me the knife Draco." I pleaded with him. I needed to feed my addiction.

"No, Ginny, no you don't. You are stronger than that." He pushed the knife further away and I started to struggle with him more and more. He kept pushing me down. He wouldn't let me up. I needed to quench my thirst for pain. I needed a gasp of air again. I was going to drown. But still, he kept me down, even when I proceeded to pound my fists on him back. I was fully submerged now and I knew that I wasn't going to come back up for air. My world turned black, I couldn't see, and then I couldn't think. I didn't even feel my head banging on the stone floor after my body had gone limp.

I woke after a while, noticing that Draco hadn't gone, he was still right there. I was a bit embarrassed. I was calmer know though, much more ready to face the world. I knew that Draco would keep me from harming myself now, he didn't look as if he was about to give up. As we exited the alcove, it had seemed we made a quiet agreement, one to help each other float. We were each other's lifejackets and we wouldn't let either go down into the everlasting darkness. It wasn't going to be just me in the alcove any more.

After a while neither of us needed the alcove for our secrets. We found other places to talk, and eventually have hesitant kisses. I found more of his scars, but none new. I knew more of his secrets, and he learned more of mine. We matured into people who no longer even needed the water but learned how to walk on our own two feet. We supported each other through the good times, the bad times, the in-between times and hopefully after I walk down this dreadful isle the afternoon we will keep doing just that. I decided to have a sleeveless dress for this occasion because I knew that Draco would be there to support me the whole time. He would be by my side, supporting this decision every step of the way and then, maybe after the wedding. After the reception which we chose to have at the beach because it was so near what brought us together. We will maybe go swimming on our honeymoon because now we are not afraid of drowning. Because now, we know how to swim, and we will do so together.

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A/N- I'm not begging or anything but I would really like to know what you think. Was it too dark? And thank you so much if you were one of those who reviewed to my other one-shot Draco/Ginny called Puddles. 


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